Hand Fascination: The Continuation
by Sano S. Sagara
Summary: Beginning with Spock's musings on how attractive his crew mate's hands are, this collection of kinda unconnected oneshots is all of my hand-based Spock-centric ficlets. most will be T or M, but a few will be lower. Because so many people asked for it to be continued, thank you lovely people. Open to requests. Continuation of my Hand Fascination oneshot.
1. Fascinating rating:K

Hand _F__ascination_

* * *

Even beyond their significance in Vulcan Culture, hands fascinated Spock.

His own tapered fingers, the palms crisscrossed with dull green veins, his nail beds a light sage color beneath his nails, captivated him.

He sat at his consol, flexing his fingers to form fists, marveling at the way his knuckles bulged beneath his smooth skin; the way his wrists turned and cut a most pleasing angle when he typed, fingers flying over the keys. None of the other Alpha shift members seemed to notice he was intently studying his own hands rather than the science station, and for that he was grateful.

He looked across to Chekov, watching as the young Russian chatted animatedly with Sulu, waving his hands about excitedly as he no doubt tried to assure the older man of some invention originating in Russia. Fingers splayed and arched with emotion, palms coming together with excitement, Spock memorized the movements.

Sulu watched the young navigator with a complacent smile, one hand idle on his control panel, the other gracefully propping up his chin. Spock felt his throat tighten as he looked at the strong tendons standing out under Sulu's darker skin.

Lt. Uhura sat primly, her slender and graceful hands folded neatly in her lap as she listened intently to the subspace frequencies. As she heard interesting, but he assumed unimportant tidbits of transmissions he saw her lips curl, and fingers twitch. So long and slender were her fingers, perfect to ghost over skin and too delicate it seemed to belong to so fierce an officer.

Dr. McCoy walked onto the bridge, a scowl on his face as usual, one broad hand massaging his jaw as he glared at the PADD in his other. Spock felt his skin tingle as he watched the Doctor's hands. They were so large, so rough looking, but in Med Bay they worked with unerring precision and the lightest of touches. The nails were bitten to the quick from stress, calluses thick on his fingertips no doubt from his childhood in rural Georgia. The tanned skin called to Spock's eye.

Scotty was also there, accompanying the Doctor to complain over something to the Captain. Spock twisted uncomfortably in his chair to see the engineer's hands covered in grease and gripping a shop rag so tightly the whites of his knuckles gleamed through the dirt. He felt his breathing grow erratic, and concentrated on quelling at least the outward signs of his fascination. He felt his blood grow warm, and knew his ears at the least must be blushed green. He could see Scotty's hands twist and collide with each other as he gestured angrily—about what Spock was almost ashamed to admit he didn't know; he was too distracted by Scotty's fingers; grime caked beneath uneven and broken nails. Fingers that were as quick and deft with a wrench or sonic screw driver as Dr. McCoy's were with a laser scalpel.

Working hands were always a great fascination to him. Hardened by use and toil, but impeccably agile when needed for the smallest task, hands that could grip tight and rough but also be gentle and teasing were his undoing.

Spock groaned under his breath, so low that none of the others heard him. His own hands fisted the material of his pants as he braced them on his thighs. He tore his gaze from the chief engineer's hands to those of his Captain.

Kirk sat in his chair with an air of bemused calm as he listened to the irate Scotsman and Doctor complain. One hand rested on his knee, limp fingered, dangling just so. The other sat on the consol of the Captain's chair. His finger tips gently traced the buttons of his com panel, thumb tucked under his palm. Spock stared intently at the slow circling and tapping of his left hand's fingers. With each movement, he felt his body react. Tap went Kirk's middle finger against the alert klaxon button; Spock's stomach flipped. Kirk's pointer finger circled the ship wide com button, slowly, teasingly; Spock's nipples hardened under his science blues. Kirk's hand moved to clasp his other as he shifted his seat and Spock's mouth went dry to imagine his hand held so.

Spock's heated gaze must not have gone unnoticed, he realized when McCoy grabbed the Captain's hand roughly in his own. At Kirk's surprised noise the Doctor simply mentioned seeing a throbbing vein and was curious. McCoy flipped over the Captain's hand, prodding, examining, twisting fingers and massaging the palm.

He pushed back the Captain's fingers, revealing the slight bulge of muscle under each; Spock's eyes widened and he felt the blood rise in his face. Air popped in the Captain's knuckles and Spock felt his gaze rivet onto the sight of that strong hand being examined.

But just as suddenly, McCoy dropped Kirk's hand, gruffly saying nothing was out of the ordinary—it must have been his imagination. Kirk just laughed, his hand flapping at the Doctor before returning to his lap.

Spock closed his eyes and wrenched around to face the science station, desperately trying to control his body's physical responses. His pants were tight, his pulse erratic, breathing labored, and he was sure his face was flushed a dull green. Spock chanted Vulcan meditation mantras in his mind until he felt in control again.

The Doctor and Captain would surely tease him for such a fetish, as they would call it, but Spock was Vulcan and as such did not have a hand fetish. No, he was Vulcan, what he had was merely a hand… fascination.

* * *

**Wow, it's been quite a long time since I've written anything for here, neh? And this story TOTALLY isn't based off of one of my personal fetishes, nope, not at all. **

**...who am I kidding, if someone asked me to roleplay as a Vulcan with hand foreplay, I'd ask 'em to marry me on the spot.**


	2. Spock and McCoy rating:T

**So I was finally convinced to add to this story. These next chapters are going to be a collection of oneshots, either connected to the rest or not, and most will be steamy if not outright naughty. Enjoy! Requests are always welcome.**

* * *

"You know you're pretty damned obvious for a Vulcan,"

McCoy's gruff voice nearly made Spock vocalize his surprise; instead however, the First Officer settled for raising an eyebrow and squaring his shoulders.

"I am sure I do not understand what you mean, Doctor," He intoned. The sight of Leonard leaning against the bulkhead outside the Bridge was normally a welcoming, if exasperating, sight. At the moment though, Spock knew he should consider fearing the feral grin and mischievous glint in the older Country Doctor's eyes. It was the glint that usually heralded a famous "McCoy 'I told you so'" bragging lecture.

"Like hell you don't Spock," McCoy pushed off from the wall and crooked a finger at Spock, beckoning him to follow him. Spock's eyes riveted on the digit and he felt himself following almost against his will. Leonard's hands were wide and rough, the hands of a farmer, but Spock had seen them move with unerring precision within surgery; and those same hands that would slap a hypospray unsympathetically into their Captain's neck could bring comfort with the lightest of touches when their owner was moved to flake away his gruff exterior.

"Doctor, where are we going?" Spock asked as they passed the door to MedBay. His only response was an impatient wiggle of the fingers in his direction. Swallowing hard, Spock continued to follow his friend. His traitorous mind wondered idly what it would feel like to have those bitten nails race down his back, or how rough the skin really felt against his lips.

"Spock, helloooo, Anyone home, Hobgoblin?" McCoy had stopped, and was apparently talking to him. Spock stiffened and felt a blush try to rise in his cheeks.

"I apologize Doctor, my mind was elsewhere," He looked around and realized they were on the observation deck, in one of the littler used conference rooms, "Why have we come to—,"

His voice died as sure as if it'd been stoppered when McCoy grasped his right hand and brought it to his lips.

"I never understood, when I was in medical school, how a Doctor would be able to continue to see another person's body as sexually attractive after all our training. If I think about it," he nibbled the skin at the very tip of Spock's middle finger, "I know that there's an extra branch of the normal median nerve going through a Vulcan's hand right here," Leonard planted his lips just at the base of Spock's fingernail which made the half alien moan low in his throat, "That should be a medical curiosity to me. But it just makes me think about how I can drive you wild. Like here,"

Spock's knees threatened to collapse when McCoy bit down over the his radial nerve which compared to humans was much more sensitive and robust. With his teeth in the heel of Spock's hand McCoy let his tongue lap against Spock's hot skin.

Moving to kiss the dead centre of his palm, letting his lips pass slowly over Spock's ulnar, median, and extra radial nerves, McCoy used his other hand to tug the Science Officer's unyielding body closer.

"Doct… Doctor McCoy…" Spock trailed off when Leonard's lips found their way to his rapid and hot pulse throbbing in his wrist.

"I'm here," a kiss, "worshiping your damn hand," another kiss, "trying to show you that you excite me when I'd thought everything was just another day in the emergency room," a bite this time to a particularly sensitive space between Spock's thumb and pointer finger, "and you're still calling me 'Doctor McCoy' Spock,"

The man's hot breath on his palm and wrist was making Spock's head spin so he fisted his other hand in Leonard's smooth hair earning himself a particularly lusty growl of approval. Spock knew he should say stop, here was hardly an appropriate place to do something like this, and what Leonard just did with the tip of his tongue to Spock's hamate was borderline pornographic, but all Spock wanted to do was drive the other man to his knees and explore right back.

And so, rather than dignify the doctor with a response (not counting that Spock wasn't sure his voice would even work as Leonard nibbled along his knuckles) Spock did just that and thrust McCoy backwards onto the conference table.

Moving quickly Spock pounced and straddled his now captive doctor's hips, planting his bottom firmly over Leonard's quickly hardening erection. McCoy groaned in lusty pleasure and easily surrendered up his own hands for Spock to toy with.

Kissing, nipping, licking, Spock worked his lips all over McCoy's hard-working hands before curving his spine and dropping a deep kiss against the doctor's lips. Spock swallowed the surprised and delighted moan and plunged his tongue deeper, chasing after the taste of brandy and the hint of mint from Leonard's gum. Moving his hips, grinding down hard and slow, Spock molded himself atop McCoy's hard and responsive body.

His own erection pressed against McCoy's thick length, and his fingers were gripped tight by skilled surgeon's hands. Spock growled into the kiss and pulled his head back,

"Leonard," The name spoken with such unbridled lust made McCoy shiver and flush, "I do believe we have a fascination to work out between ourselves,"

Spock waited till Leonard nodded his permission before he moved down, dragging his body over Leonard's, and kissing his way across the chest beneath him. Spock loosed his grip long enough on his captive's hands to divest them both of shirts and undershirts, flinging the offending clothing somewhere in the direction of the door.

Spock returned to biting his way across Leonard's wide chest, worrying the hot flesh with his still hotter lips, and biting lightly at the budding nipples before him. With each movement Leonard moaned louder, writhed harder, and bucked up more against Spock's groin until both men were hard enough to burst through their tight fitted pants.

Afterward, as they lay there covered in sweat and panting, Leonard lifted their still entwined hands to his lips and kissed them,

"Never seen anything like it,"

Spock couldn't agree more.

* * *

**Mwaha, if anyone wants the juicy bit added in, just ask and I'll post it. But right now it's late and I really want to go to sleep, but I had a bit of a hard time -stopping- the sex scene so I chose instead to omit it. That's right, that right up there is some pretty hardcore classic gently wafting curtains!**

**Again, requests are encouraged, and all pairings welcome. See you next drabble!**


	3. Jim and Spock rating:T

**Here's chapter three. Some nice wholesome Spock and Jim fantasy that boils down to why one should never (or always) interrupt a Vulcan whilst meditating. Enjoy!**

* * *

Spock felt a queer embarrassment stirring deep in his gut. McCoy knew that hands, specifically their Captain's hands, excited him. And the irascible doctor appeared to not be below torturing Spock by toying with the object of his desire in front of him. Having turned back to the science station, Spock was able to hide the blush flowing steadily up his face, but nothing would tune out the sweet southern drawl and irate Scottish proverbs that passed for conversation behind him.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, one at a time!" Jim's voice was clear and humorous, and Spock knew that his golden Captain was holding his hands up placatingly, "I'll get you sorted out in due time. Bones, you said there's a problem with what now?"

Spock tried in vain to concentrate on his work, but his attention kept wavering back to Jim and his hands. Back to Jim and his smile… and his personality and his character and the way he arched over his chair when he stretched.

McCoy's voice yanked Spock out of a daydream when he heard the other man say, "Damnit Jim, just 'cause you have the whip hand here doesn't mean my opinions don't matter!"

_' "Having the whip hand": mid twentieth century American idiom meaning to be the person in charge,'_ Spock knew what most idioms meant, and merely liked to irritate the rest of the crew by being so literal, but at the moment all that went through his mind was an image of Jim's hand wrapped tight around the handle of a whip. Fingers closed and knuckles stark white under the tan. The thin fine strips of rough leather would crack over his back, his sides, his arse, and Spock could almost feel the burning pleasure.

Then Jim laughed and Spock's daydream shattered. Springing to his feet, the frazzled science Officer asked for leave to flee his station. The door was swishing shut before Jim even had time to utter acquiescence.

"Bones? Do you know what was up with that?"

"Beats me Jimmy, maybe something's gotten out of hand with the Hobgoblin," Bones chuckled to himself at the slight confused look on Jim's face.

* * *

Jim stood outside the door to Spock's cabin and shuffled his feet uncertainly.

_'I'm just gonna see if he's alright… he was acting so weird… earlier… I'm just gonna see if he's alright,'_ Jim steeled himself and knocked.

Silence.

Jim knocked a second and a third time, and now he was genuinely worried for Spock. Images of the Vulcan passed out, fainted over his table, bleeding from a head wound from slipping in the bathroom, and worse yet in pain alone flicked through his mind as he hurriedly keyed his override code into the door.

"Spock!" Jim burst through the door and his jaw promptly hit the floor. His First Officer was _not_ incapacitated in any life threatening way, but was rather meditating on a cushion before some truly ornate candles.

Meditating in the nude, as it were.

Jim made a strangled noise of pure embarrassment and tried to back peddle his way out of that overly hot enclosed space but his clumsy feet tripped over Spock's small area rug and he went sprawling down onto his behind.

Spock was wrenched from his meditation by Jim's decidedly unmanly shriek and when he saw his Captain fall, all instinct took over his meditation calmed mind and he sprang forward to help Jim back to his feet.

Hand in hand, hauling his stammering Captain up, Spock froze. Remembering his nudity, he was rooted to the spot, thankful Jim's eyes were on his. He tried to form some word, but he had been too far into meditation trying to put the illicit thoughts he'd been having about Jim out of his mind, and his mouth didn't seem to want to cooperate. Instead all his senses locked down onto the feeling of Jim's cooler hands in his. Fingers gripping tight to one another and palms pressed so close Spock was sure there would be skin grafting occurring. He realized that Jim was indeed steady on his feet now but hadn't dropped his hands. If anything, the blond haired man's grip had become tighter.

"Spock?" Jim's voice shattered whatever spell was over the Vulcan's mind and he lunged forward to take Jim's lips in a kiss. Whatever startled reply his Captain might have had was lost in his moans and the swift battle between their tongues.

Spock backed Jim up until he was pressing him against the wall of his room. Spock arched himself over his captive, plundering Jim's mouth with unbridled need. His hands yanked through soft hair to hold Jim's head just so, so that he could move his kisses from lips to jaw line. Spock nibbled and sucked his way along Jim's jaw to neck and ended moaning into the shorter man's collarbone, inhaling the wonderful scent that was Jim Kirk.

"Oh, god, Spock, what are you…" Jim trailed off and ran his hands over Spock's too hot skin. He could feel the sparks of desire rolling off the body pinning his down, and was acutely aware of just how much skin was on display before him.

"Are you," moaning as Spock's mouth found a sweet spot on his shoulder, "sure about this Spock?"

Spock released Jim's shoulder long enough to meet hazy blue eyes with his own smoldering brown ones.

"Captain, do you not want this as well? Because, I have had enough time to meditate on, and plan out, every, single, thing, I, want, to do, to, you," With each word Spock kissed a different spot on Kirk's upper body and face.

"Fuck Spock!" Jim breathed out, "How long?"

"Since the instant I met you," Spock kissed Jim long and slow, different than his previous hurried kisses, "I have wanted you for many reasons. Do you want me as well?"

Jim reached between them to strip his shirt off. Quickly he unbuttoned his pants and let them fall, kicking them and his boots off before pulling Spock's body against his own.

"I won't want to let you go again Spock. This… I don't want it to be another meaningless thing," Jim splayed his hands over Spock's hard back and nearly melted as he felt those muscles flex and ripple, "I want you to be with me,"

"I would not assume anything different, Captain," Spock trailed his sensitive fingertips down Jim's front, shivering as fine hairs tickled his skin, to come to rest gripping firmly at those slowly gyrating hips against his own.

" 'Jim', goddamnit Spock. If you're going to fuck me, you'd better call me "Jim","

Spock smiled as he lifted Jim's palm to his lips and began to suck at each of his fingers, "If I am going to love you, then, Sir, what should I call you?"

Jim moaned as the hot wet heat of Spock's mouth toyed with his fingers and palm,

"J-J-J…. _Fuuuuck _Spock I-,"

"I love you as well, Jim,"

"Spock!"

* * *

**:Giggles happily: I really am enjoying these little spicey scenes! If anyone wants something continued, embellished, or to have the more explicit sex added, all they have to do is ask! I'm also accepting requests!**


	4. Spock and Uhura rating: T

**Hand Fascination: The Continuation**

**A/N-Here's some dirty talk...type? with Sock and Uhura! Sorry about the out of characterness, but the idea just wouldn't let me go. Again, I adore writing these little snippets, so if anyone wants something more M, longer, a specific pairing, an orgy, anything just let me know!**

* * *

_Click. Clackity clack click. _

Spock twitched.

_Tap, tap tap. Click. _

Spock clenched his fists against his knees. Behind him, Nyota continued to type away at her consol. He could tell just what she was typing by listening to the time between each soft clack of the keys. She was sending a missive to Starfleet Command, detailing the ships latest findings in this new quadrant. They had spent the last several weeks mapping a recently discovered nebula cluster, and overall the report was rather dull. No new elements, no new astral formations, no new nothing.

With each key stroke Spock felt his pulse jump in time, felt his skin prick as he imagined her capable fingers gliding over his body and pressing with the same light force. Spock forced a blush down as his mind glided farther away from his station. How could he concentrate on the completely, indescribably, utterly unimportant readings the science station was spewing out at him when just yards away Lt. Uhura was unintentionally bringing him to his very knees.

Finally the typing silenced for a moment,

"Captain? Do you want to re-read this report before I send it in?"

"I'm sure you did a fine job Uhura," Kirk peered around Dr. McCoy and Lt. Scott to flash his Communications Officer a thankful smile.

"Good, because I've already sent it in," Nyota smiled back, cheekily sharing in the laughter that rang across the deck before turning back to her station and opening another document.

Spock shifted uneasily in his seat, counting down the moments till this shift ended and he would be able to retreat to his quarters and meditate. Spock was close to his Time, and with each passing day he grew more and more easily distracted by things of a carnal nature.

…Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptap. Tap. Tap. Tap. …

Spock frowned. Uhura had begun idly tapping the space bar of her keyboard, and for some reason was tapping out the outdated S.O.S message in Morse code. The light strokes of her thumb over the key was low enough that Spock was confident he was the only being on the bridge able to hear it. Nevertheless, it was still puzzling. For long moments she continued the slow and almost lazily absentminded tapping, then stilled for a moment.

_I know you can hear this. _

Spock resisted the very human urge to whirl around in his seat to look at Nyota, instead he tapped out the Morse signal for 'affirmative' on his own consol.

_Listen. Very closely. _

Again, Spock flicked his fingertips across his keypad in agreement.

_Think about how easy it would be for you to come over here and throw me up against the consol. You're a Vulcan, you're easily three times my strength. You could rip my uniform off without the slightest effort, have me naked and excited in mere moments. _

Spock swallowed hard, listening to Nyota as she tapped out her message. It was obscene, so soft and insignificant a sound composing a lewd message, a message everyone was hearing but only they understood.

_You'd push me back against the station, hands roaming up my legs, fingertips burning against my skin as you feel my excitement. Our moans filling the bridge, the sound of fabric ripping, clothing being flung away, your breath heavy as you try to control your most primal urge to fuck me. Make me yours. _

Spock stifled a little moan, too low and back in his throat for anyone else to hear, but somehow Nyota knew she was arousing him.

_You want that, don't you? You want to let go and rut against me like a sehlat in heat. You want to tie my hands above my head and bite your way across my body, tasting, sucking, feeling. You want to feel my legs quiver and tense with your hands on my thighs and your face buried in my pussy, lapping away until I scream for more. _

_You want to make me beg and moan and plead. You want to drive me wild before you finally thrust into me and fuck me hard. _

Spock shifted, his erection throbbing in his suddenly too tight regulation pants. At least he wasn't flushed-all the extra blood in his body had seemingly fled to his cock. Nyota's words were pulling at him, driving his lust to a boil.

_Do it. You could. Just stand up and come over here, fuck me in front of the crew, the Captain. Fuck me good and hard, make me cum, make me scream and moan and beg for your Vulcan cock. Bend me over the station, take me in my chair, fuck me on the floor or against the wall. I don't care, just. Fuck. Me. _

Spock's mind filled in all the images he needed. Nyota with her hair in disarray, panting and flushed beneath him, mouth swollen from kissing. Nyota bent over the communications consol, trying to send a status report to the ship while he plowed into her from behind, taking her hard and fast and oh so pleasurably. Nyota with her hands fisted in his hair and legs over his shoulders as he lapped at her engorged clit, determined to make her cum over and over again till the crafty linguist had no more words left.

_I want you Spock, want you here, now, hard and hot. I need you to fuck me till I can't move. _

_Please Spock, fuck me. _

With a barely contained grunt, Spock was cumming in his pants, only his Vulcan training keeping him still and silent as a sodden patch bloomed in his lap. His ears burning green, he had to sit for the remaining thirty minutes of his shift with semen pooling in his boxers while Nyota grinned to herself and tapped out a victory tune with her fingertips.

_My quarters, after this shift is over… _

Spock inclined his head.

_I'll show you just what else these fingers can do. _

And Spock was hard again.

Extra:  
Chekov sat in his seat, ears burning from embarrassment. He squirmed, shifted, bounced, twiddled his fingers, until finally giving up and singing softly to himself in Russian. He'd never been happier, or more embarrassed, to know Morse code before in his entire life.


End file.
